


Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

by Fanforthefics (StormDancer)



Series: Hockey Tumblr Oneshots [39]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, Nate probably deserves some sort of medal tbh, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-05 04:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21207284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/Fanforthefics
Summary: Gabe had been exactly 6 years, 4 hours, 5 minutes, and 33 seconds old when he met Tyson.





	Whatever Our Souls Are Made Of

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompts: “Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait” and “arguments that lead to kissing/sex” 
> 
> Not betaed, barely proofread, enjoy!

Gabe had been exactly 6 years, 4 hours, 5 minutes, and 33 seconds old when he met Tyson. 

Tyson insists that there is no way he remembers the time down to the second, but he’s wrong about that—Gabe remembers looking at a clock when the neighbor kid his mom had invited to his birthday party knocked, and he knows what time it was. He thinks, sometimes, that he couldn’t not remember it—that it was the sort of moment that changed his life forever, and so of course it’s etched into his memory. 

(”So that clearly means you love me more than I love you,” Tyson says, laughing at Gabe’s face. “Because I don’t remember exactly what time it was.” 

Gabe looks at Tyson, sprawled out on his dorm room bed with the abandoned homework he’d brought with him for the weekend, with that expression on that’s half-mocking and half-challenging and all fond, and thinks, well, yeah.). 

Anyway, what that boils down to, is that Gabe doesn’t really remember a time without Tyson next door, to play ball hockey or video games with or complain about their sisters or report back to him what next year’s going to be like from his vast extra experience of nine months. There is that dark year when Tyson’s in high school and Gabe’s still stuck in primary, but even that year, every day after Tyson comes home from practice he comes over and lets himself into the Landeskog house and throws himself onto Gabe’s bed to start talking about whatever Tyson’s topic of choice is that day, and Gabe grins at him and lets Tyson’s voice wash over him. Sometimes he thinks that’s what home is—Tyson’s voice in the background. 

Then they’re both in high school, and that’s a lot better. Gabe had obviously already known most of Tyson’s friends, because they’re kind of a package deal with they hang out, so he sort of fits in with them immediately. Not that he doesn’t make his own friends, of course, but Tyson takes it for granted when Gabe follows him to his lunch table, when Gabe goes out for the hockey team, when he ends up trying out for the school play because Tyson thought it would be fun. It’s not that he’s just doing what Tyson does, he tells Bea, when she teases him for it; they’re things he’d want to do anyway so of course Tyson wants to do them too. 

Gabe thinks he didn’t know dark years, though, until Tyson goes to college. That’s—it’s not like last time, when Gabe had known that he just had to wait out a year and he’d be with Tyson again, and Tyson was always there when he could be anyway. This was—Gabe hugging Tyson tight before he drove off with his parents. 

“Don’t get too cool for me while I’m gone,” Tyson says, into Gabe’s shoulder. 

“Get?” Gabe drawls, and he knows Tyson’s making a face by the sound he makes. But he’s also— “I’ll call. We’ll text.” It maybe comes out a little desperate, but—he’s heard of what happens to friendships when colleges happen, how they slowly drift apart. He doesn’t think that’ll happen to them, but—Tyson’s Tyson, he’s all extroverted and friendly and likable and he makes friends with everyone, so of course he’s going to have a lot of college friends, and what if they make him forget Gabe? 

“Who else will listen to my very important opinions about dessert?” Tyson asks, and Gabe snorts. 

“You don’t have important opinions,” he says, and Tyson sticks out his tongue. 

“Wow, see if I tell you anything about all the hot people I bone,” Tyson says, and now it’s Gabe’s turn to make a face. 

“Please don’t,” he says. Tyson has a bad habit of oversharing about that too, because somehow despite being weird looking he has a lot of success talking people into bed with him. Gabe’s had plenty of luck with girls, it’s true, but he doesn’t tell Tyson the play by play. Usually. 

“You love me and my oversharing,” Tyson says, confident, and Gabe can’t help but smile.

“Maybe I do,” he admits, partly because he means it and partly because it makes Tyson flush. 

“Whatever. I’m going to go to college and make so many better friends who don’t make fun of me,” he warns, which is like, kind of Gabe’s worst nightmare, and that must show in his face, because Tyson’s hand comes up, around Gabe’s neck. 

“Come on. Who else would put up with me?” he asks, low, and Gabe knows the answer—a lot of people would, because people like Tyson, because it’s not putting up with Tyson when Tyson’s so great, because Tyson makes everything easier and people notice that too. But—

“That’s why you need me,” he says, and holds Tyson tighter for a moment until Tyson’s dad calls that they need to go. 

* * *

That last year of high school is fine—it proves to Bea that he really can be somewhere without Tyson, which is good when it becomes pretty clear that they’re not going to end up at the same school, no matter how much Tyson shows off his campus and parties and friends when Gabe comes to visit. All of that seems cool, including the friends, who greet him with, “Oh, you’re _Gabe_,” in a way that makes Tyson flush, which makes Gabe grin and feel something dark and satisfied in his gut. But his school also doesn’t have the programs Gabe wants even a little, and when he considers compromising on that everyone from Bea to his parents to his guidance counselor to Tyson himself take him to task. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Tyson tells him over Facetime, looking about as stern as he can look while also doing something that looks like he’s hanging upside down over the edge of his bed. “You can’t just give up on being a doctor.” 

Gabe knows, he does, but— "You don’t want me at the same school?” he asks, and he hates how it comes out making him sound young. He’s barely younger than Tyson, it shouldn’t sound like that. 

Tyson snorts. “Of course I do. But not if it means you’re giving up on a dream you’ve had since you were what, ten? I’m not worth that.” 

Gabe thinks about the constant, unwavering support and belief from Tyson, the way he can make Gabe laugh no matter what, the way he gets what Gabe needs without a word. “You are.” 

Tyson smiles, clearly pleased even if he won’t say it. “Well, I mean, clearly I am worth the best always. But how are you supposed to support me when I’m a starving artist if you don’t go to med school and start making that doctor money?” 

Gabe snorts, despite himself. Tyson swings himself so that Gabe thinks he’s actually upright now. “It’s only a couple years, and we can visit whenever,” Tyson says, a little softer. “Don’t be an idiot about it.” 

“Yeah,” Gabe sighs. He knows, he does, he just—he wants it to be like it was when they were kids and inseparable.

Then there’s the sound of a door opening, and “Yo, Barrie!” comes a yell, “Beer pong tournament, you coming?” 

“I’m on the phone, Schenner!” Tyson yells back. 

“Well tell Landeskog that you’ve got to go, it’s time to party!” Then there’s some jostling and Luke Schenn’s face comes into view. “Hey, Landy. Tell your boyfriend that it’s beer pong time.” 

Gabe doesn’t react to that joke, which apparently started when he came to visit and someone told him that Tyson talked about him like a boyfriend. They just can’t get two platonic friends, Tyson had said, despite how red he was, and Gabe agrees. “Hey, Schenner,” he tells him, then, to Tyson, “I hear it’s beer pong time?”

“I mean, I do have a title to defend,” Tyson admits, with a wry grin. “You okay if I go?” 

No. Gabe wants to keep Tyson on the phone with him, reassuring him that he’s making the right choice, that nothing between them will change. But Tyson’s chewing on his lower lip, looking hopeful and excited, and glancing sidelong at Luke, and so Gabe makes himself smile. “Yeah, go on. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Woo!” Luke cheers, punches Tyson in the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he behaves,” he tells Gabe, fending off Tyson’s punch for that. “We’ll return him in one piece.” 

“No one’ll find you in one piece,” Tyson mutters, but he’s laughing. “Okay, bye, Gabe!” he says, then hangs up. Gabe swallows down his own goodbye. Tyson is having fun and that’s good, he tells himself. Next year he’ll have fun at his own college. 

* * *

He does, too. He knows he made the right call, going to university a few hours away from both home and Tyson; he makes friends and has girlfriends and learns a lot. And like Tyson promised, they still call each other, and visit enough that Gabe’s roommate calls Tyson their third roommate, and it’s all good, Gabe thinks. He has classes and his friends and girlfriends and Tyson, and Bea’s not far away either, and that’s what he needs. 

Then Gabe’s worst nightmare happens, or so it feels. The first indication of it is that a guy starts showing up in Tyson’s story more, some super-talented freshman. Tyson’s got a lot of friends, though, so Gabe doesn’t think anything of it until he’s Facetiming Tyson one evening and one of his friends calls, mostly teasing when Tyson was kicking him out, if Gabe knew he was being replaced as number one in Tyson’s heart. Tyson denies it, of course, but Gabe starts paying attention after that. 

He doesn’t like this Nate Mackinnon character, he decides very quickly. It seems like he encourages all of Tyson’s worst impulses, the parts of him that do stupid shit because he has very little impulse control. And he’s so young, he probably makes Tyson take care of him. That’s probably all he cares about Tyson for. 

Maybe that last bit isn’t true, he thinks when he comes to visit next, and he actually meets Nate. Nate’s clearly—he’s a big blonde puppy of a guy, who clearly thinks Tyson’s awesome, which Gabe can’t exactly deny, and that Tyson’s cool, which Gabe will deny to his last breath. It’s just impossible to dislike Nate in person, because he’s friendly and seems to be trying hard to get Gabe to like him and is breathtakingly good at hockey. 

Still, Gabe can’t and doesn’t really try to stop how he’s touchier with Tyson when Nate’s around, how he tugs him close and makes sure to bring up all their over ten years of inside jokes and all the ways he takes care of Tyson, that Tyson needs him. He thinks he’s getting away with it, except then they go to bed and Tyson stares him down from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the bed. 

“What?” Gabe asks, as he strips down to his boxers to sleep. 

“You’re being a dick to Nate.” 

“I am not.” Gabe’s being very polite, he thinks. Given that he’s trying to steal Gabe’s best friend. 

“I know what you look like when you’re pretending you aren’t being a dick but you really are,” Tyson argues, and he’s got that set look on from when he’s digging in his heels. “What gives?” 

“Nothing gives,” Gabe tells him, and sits down opposite him on the bed. They’ll blow up the air mattress at some point, or they won’t and they’ll crash in the same bed, which was a lot more practical when they were both ten, but Gabe can’t say he minds having another warm body in his bed. 

“Oh, something gives. You are the giving tree of somethings, Gabriel,” Tyson retorts, and Gabe snorts and rolls his eyes. Tyson pokes at his leg with his toe. “Come on. Talk to me, or I’ll keep asking until you do and you’re in a bad mood. We both know how this ends.” 

Gabe does, is the thing. He sighs. “I just…I’m your best friend,” he mutters, looking down at the bedspread. He’d been with Tyson on the Bed, Bath, and Beyond trip that acquired it, when Tyson and his mom had been doing all the pre-college dorm room shopping. 

He doesn’t have to look up to know that Tyson’s smiling, maybe even smirking. “Aw, do you feel like you’re being replaced? Are you feeling threatened, Landy?” Gabe doesn’t say anything. Tyson pokes him again. “Come on. Nate’s awesome, but you and me are forever. We’ve shared a bath, you can’t get rid of me now.” 

“That sounds really weird when you say it like that,” Gabe complains, but he can feel himself smiling again, at the sentiment if not how it’s expressed. 

“Whatever, you need to stop being a dick to Nate,” Tyson tells him. “He was really excited to meet you, I’ve talked you up so much. Don’t disappoint him. You don’t want to see his disappointed face, it’s lethal. Also, he’s great and you’d really like him if you gave him a chance.” 

Gabe sighs and looks up at Tyson, and like he’d known would happen, it’s decided. Nate’s disappointed face might be lethal (he’d later learn that was true), but Gabe’s been incapable of standing up to Tyson’s hopeful smile for ten years. “Fine,” he mutters, and Tyson grins, and kicks Gabe again. 

“Good. Now that you’re done being stupid, can we go to sleep? I am wiped.” 

“I wasn’t being stupid,” Gabe retorts, but he does go to blow up the air mattress. 

It’s only later, when it’s all dark but Gabe knows by the sound of Tyson’s breathing that he’s still awake, that he says, quiet, “You know you’re my best friend, right?” It’s—best friend isn’t enough, he thinks. Tyson’s the most important person in his life, in so many ways. But best friend are the words they’ve put to it. 

“Yeah, love you too, bud,” Tyson mumbles, and rolls over. “Now go to sleep.” 

Gabe does. He also does make an effort with Nate, after that, and can admit that he is actually pretty cool, maybe. Especially when it becomes pretty clear that Tyson’s not replacing him with Nate; once Tyson introduces them with “this is my best friend and this is my…Gabe,” which Gabe likes. 

* * *

Gabe doesn’t choose his med school based on where Tyson moves after college, but it is maybe an influence, and this time he won’t let anyone tell him no. It’s a good school, anyway, it’s not like he’s compromising, and he’s done with the whole long distance Tysoning thing. He wants to be in the same place as Tyson again. 

He ends up being even closer than that—Tyson’s roommate ends up moving in with her girlfriend about when Gabe graduates, and when Tyson’s complaining about how hard it is to find a new roommate Gabe does the reasonable thing and suggests that he just move in. 

Gabe hasn’t been this close to Tyson since he was seventeen, and he’s never lived with him. On the one hand, it’s great. There’s no one he loves or knows more than Tyson, and now he’s there all the time, to distract Gabe when he’s stressed about work and to remind him there’s a world outside and to tell him he can do it whenever he needs it and to cook for him because that’s how Tyson deals with his own stress. On the other hand, he’s is learning new things about Tyson, now that they’re staying together for longer than a weekend, like that Tyson gets pissy when Gabe doesn’t pick up after himself, and that Tyson sets ten different alarms at five minute intervals so there is no way for Gabe to sleep in past him if he wants to, and that the fact that they can’t agree on music means that they’re in a constant battle for the bluetooth speakers. 

Also, that Tyson hooks up. Gabe—hadn’t known that, really. He never had, when Gabe was over for the weekend; he’d never actually told Gabe about that, after he’d left for college. Gabe had assumed he hooked up sometimes, because like, it was Tyson, obviously he could hook up if he wants to, but he hadn’t quite realized the…frequency. 

Oh, Tyson's not impolite about it—he always warns Gabe first and it’s never before Gabe has a big test or anything and nothing ever happens in public spaces that Gabe can see, but Gabe sees it starting, sometimes, when they’re out together and Tyson turns his flirt up to eleven (from its normal setting of probably around an eight) and disappears from the table. And he sees the end of it, because he’s definitely seen guys and girls at the table the next morning, eating the breakfast Tyson’s making, because of course he’s the sort of guy who’d feed his hook ups breakfast. Gabe’s even chatted with quite a few of them, because if Tyson’s making breakfast obviously he’s going to have some too if he has time, and they’re all pretty cool. Gabe’s not surprised—Tyson’s always had good, if too generous, taste in friends. Which extends to hook ups. 

There are a few repeats, but no one steady enough that Gabe learns more about them than their name. It’s fine; if that’s how Tyson wants to live his life Gabe’s okay with it, even if he kind of thinks that maybe it would be safer for Tyson to have some stability. Tyson snorts when he says that, makes fun of him for being such a med student, and ignores him other than that. Which is fair, Gabe guesses. 

Gabe does not hook up, really. He doesn’t have time, is mainly the issue, then he gets a girlfriend. That’s a bit of a grey cloud, actually; he likes her a lot, but she doesn’t get on with Tyson. 

“Excuse me for not wanting to make nice with your boyfriend,” she says, when Gabe brings it up, and Gabe rolls his eyes, because if he’s heard that joke once, he’s heard it a thousand times. 

“He’s my best friend.” 

“He’s really not,” she says. They stay together for a little longer, but then they break up and Tyson makes him his favorite chocolate cake and they watch stupid action movies and Gabe’s okay with it. 

Then Nate graduates and, as a stop gap measure while he figures out what he wants to do, ends up on their couch. Gabe’s fine with that, really. He likes Nate on his own and he likes how he likes Tyson, so he’s okay with it. Nate gets a girlfriend pretty quickly, anyway, so his time on their couch is cut down by life half. Gabe gets another girlfriend not long after that, so then Tyson’s the only single person left in the apartment. 

“We need to fix that,” he says, throwing an arm over Tyson, one night when the three of them are actually all back. Gabe’s got a late start on his rotation in dermatology tomorrow, so he can actually hang out late and not feel guilty. “Get you a girlfriend too. Or a boyfriend. Share in the wealth.” 

Tyson snorts. “What would I know to do with a relationship?” he asks, in that self-deprecating tone that means he’s the wrong side of wine drunk. “My longest relationship’s lasted like, a week.” 

“You’ve had relationships?” Gabe demands. He hadn’t heard about any of them. “And you didn’t—” 

“They never even lasted long enough to say anything to you about,” Tyson cuts him off, but he knew exactly what Gabe was going to say anyway, which makes Gabe smile a little, give Tyson a one-armed hug. “So, yeah. I’ll stick with the casual sex, thanks.” 

“No, you shouldn’t—you deserve a relationship,” Gabe tells him. Tyson deserves the world, and Gabe would give it to him, if he could. “You’re a catch.” 

“Forgive me if I don’t believe mister viking god over there to judge who’s a catch or not.” Tyson smacks his leg. “You’re too pretty to understand things like this.” Gabe makes a face. He’s never quite sure how he feels when Tyson says things like that. 

“Anyway,” Tyson goes on, “Let’s talk about something other than my single-ness. Nate, how’s the job search going?” 

“Low blow,” Nate throws at him, and Tyson laughs, turning so he’s more settled against Gabe. 

Tyson ends up going to bed first, because he’d drunk more than Nate or Gabe and because he’s the only one with work tomorrow. Once he’s gone, Gabe turns to Nate. 

“We really do need to get him a relationship,” he says. If Tyson wants a relationship, he should have one. “I don’t get why he’s never had one, he really is a catch.” Nate snorts. “What?” 

Nate makes a face like he can’t decide if he’s going to say anything, but then, “Look, do you want to know why Tyson’s never had a relationship?” 

Gabe bristles at the idea that Nate knows Tyson better than him. “Yes, enlighten me,” he drawls, as condescending as he can make it. 

“It’s because he uses all his emotional energy on you.” 

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend, such an original joke.” 

“It’s not a joke.” Nate leans forward, intent. “Do you know how long it took for me to figure out that you weren’t boyfriends in some sort of open relationship for college? I’m pretty sure there are people at school who never figured that out.” 

“Whatever, we’re close–” 

“It’s not whatever.” Nate shakes his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but—it is really not fair what you do to him.” 

“What I _do_ to him?” Gabe echoes. His fists are clenching on his lap. Where the hell does Nate get off, telling him anything about his relationship with Tyson? 

“Yeah. You’re straight, you’re not into him, you won’t ever be into him, but you still keep him on the hook.” 

“Tyson isn’t pining for me.” 

“No, because Tys isn’t into hopeless causes, but**—**” Nate huffs out a breath. “But you still do everything a boyfriend would, other than sex. You still ask everything of him a boyfriend would. And no, it’s not fair to Tyson, because he can’t get into a relationship while you’re there, taking up all that space.” 

“I’ve managed to have girlfriends—” 

“Because Tys asks less of you,” Nate retorts, and Gabe digs his nails into his palms. The way Nate says it, it sounds like—it sounds like they’re in some sort of predatory unequal relationship, where Gabe takes and takes and doesn’t give as much to Tyson, where Gabe’s keeping Tyson from something because he wants him all to himself, and he doesn’t–that’s not their friendship. They’re best friends, they always have been. 

“Look.” Nate sighs. “I’m not trying to—like, downplay your friendship, or whatever. I know you care about him. But so do I, and it just–if this was actually a queerplatonic relationship or whatever, that’d be one thing, but it isn’t, I don’t think, and—I want him to be happy.” 

“He is happy,” Gabe protests. He knows that. He does. 

“Yeah, but—” Nate shakes his head, shrugs a little. “Like, he doesn’t really want to hook up forever, but as long as you’re there… I dunno.” 

“He is happy,” Gabe repeats, and gets up. He knows that. He has to. Nate doesn’t say anything to it, but he doesn’t have to. 

* * *

It sticks with Gabe, even after they wake up the next morning and Nate gives Gabe a sort of apologetic shrug that Gabe doesn’t quite accept but doesn’t make it weird, either. He keeps thinking about it. Looking at what he does with Tyson. 

And, slowly, he realizes—Nate might be right. He does ask a lot of Tyson, and he always knew that, but now he sees the shape of it, and it is kind of…boyfriendy. The texts, the domesticity, the need for support. How Tyson’s his first thought of a person to text when something happens to him, how maybe he gets sulky when Tyson takes too long to write back. How he has a girlfriend, but he still goes to Tyson when something goes wrong at the hospital, when Bea’s having issues and needs talking them out, when he’s just feeling shitty. 

It’s kind of awful, seeing this mirror held up to their relationship. To their friendship. Because Gabe does want Tyson to have everything he wants, and maybe Nate’s right. Maybe Tyson can’t have a relationship when Gabe’s so close. Maybe Gabe does ask too much of Tyson. He remembers all those times when Tyson was ahead of him, in high school or in college, and Gabe called him all the time, needed him more. He’s always kind of been afraid of that, that he needed Tyson more than Tyson needed him, but if even Nate’s noticed…

But Gabe knows what he needs to do to fix it. He can be a good person, can give Tyson what he needs. Tyson is a catch, he’s cute as anything and he’d be a great boyfriend and from what Gabe’s heard through the wall he’s great in bed, if not quiet, so if it’s just Gabe stopping that—well. 

“I need to move out,” Gabe tells him. He thinks he manages to sound firm, not like it feels like each word is scraping his throat. 

“What?” Tyson turns, the bowl he’s whisking still in his arms. His face is a little red and his hair’s got flour in it and whisking shows off his arms to their best and Gabe loves him, a lot. Enough to do this. “I was joking about the dishes. Or, I mean, I wasn’t, you really do need to do them before they pile up because it’s gross and I’ve told you that a thousand times, but I didn’t actually mean I’d kick you out.” 

“I know.” Gabe steels himself, then, “I still need to move out.” 

“Why?” Tyson blinks. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing, it’s just time.” 

“Bullshit, we were fine like a week ago. What happened?” Tyson puts the bowl down. “Talk to me and we’ll figure out why you’re being weird, and then it’ll be okay.” 

“I’m not being weird, I just need to.” 

“You’re always weird, Gabriel,” Tyson tells him, and Gabe snorts. 

“You’re one to talk.” 

“Exactly, I’m the expert. So what’s up this time?” 

“I–— Gabe maybe shouldn’t, but Tyson’s who he talks things out with. He needs Tyson for that. “Do you ever think we’re too close?” 

“Looks like there’s a good space between us.” 

Gabe rolls his eyes. “Tys.” 

“I don’t know, we’re close. Who cares?” 

“I do.” Tyson’s eyebrows go up. “It’s—I think that we’re so close it’s stopping us, well, you, from like, growing and doing, um, other things, so—” 

“What the fuck, Gabe?” Tyson doesn’t look like he’s laughing anymore. He looks like he’s looked in their few real fights, or when he actually buckles down into something serious–the usual hint of a smile in the corners of his mouths and eyes gone. 

“You’ve never been in a relationship,” Gabe gets out. “And it’s not because of you, you’re a great boyfriend. Which I know, because I guess you’ve been, like. Sort of acting as mine for the last twenty years.” 

“First of all, we met when we were six, gross. Second—you’re not my boyfriend, you’re straight. And you’re my _best friend_.” 

“I know, but—we aren’t, really,” Gabe tries to remember what Nate had said, what he’d noticed. It’s really hard, in the face of Tyson’s angry face. “Nate’s a best friend. We’re—something else. And I don’t want that to stop you from being happy.” 

“What, so because I’m into guys I must be in love with you?” Tyson snorts. “Classy, Landeskog. Pulling a promiscuous bisexual stereotype.” 

“No, I don’t think you—I think you’re using all your emotional energy on me, and that’s stopping you from doing it with someone else.” 

“And now you’re telling me to stop.” Tyson’s arms cross in front of his chest. Looking at that is easier than looking at his face. “Because you’ve decided that’s what’s best for me.” 

“I’m doing it because you’d never,” Gabe gets out, because he knows that’s true. 

“Because I’m in love with you? Because sorry, bud, you’re hot but it’s not–” 

“Because you’re too nice!” Gabe bursts out with, before Tyson keeps on throwing that at him. “You wouldn’t, Tys, not as long as I kept asking things of you, because you always—you give me things, and you don’t ask nearly as much of me, but I can give you this much.” 

Tyson’s eyes narrow even further. “You’ve been talking to Nate.” 

“Yes, but I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t true. It wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t true. But it is, so—I’m moving out.”

“No you’re not!” 

“Yes I am!” 

“Don’t be a fucking idiot!” Tyson snaps back at him. “Whatever, we’re close, I spend a lot of emotional energy or what the fuck ever on you. I’m an adult and I can choose that. I’m not like, dying for a relationship over here, Gabe! I’m not pining away after you or anyone else, I don’t care—” 

“I do!” Gabe’s voice is getting louder. “You’re—you’re hot and funny and smart and comfortable and fun and a good cook and you’ve got so much love to give and you should give that to someone who’ll love you back!” 

“Then why don’t you just date me? You love me back,” Tyson throws at him, like a dare, like all the stuff Gabe’s been thinking, and Gabe’s moving before he thinks of it. He takes two steps across the room, grabs Tyson’s cross arms, then yanks him towards Tyson into a kiss. Tyson’s stiff under his hands, and Gabe holds it just long enough to make a point before he lets go. 

“Because—because that’s not what it should be,” he says. Tyson’s eyes are wide and his mouth’s gaped a little open and it looks like, for a second, he forgets to be mad. “Because you deserve the world, and this is what I can give you.” 

“Fine.” Tyson’s tone is clipped and his eyes are narrowed, but Gabe knows him, and he can hear the tremor in his voice, the way his fists are clenched because they’ll be shaking if he lets them go. “Fucking go. If that’s what you think is best.” 

“It is,” Gabe says, and tries to make it a statement, but it turns into a plea, so Tyson will understand. So he’ll keep Tyson in some way. Tyson doesn’t say anything back. 

* * *

So he moves out. One of his med school classmates has a spare room for him to crash in, and he knows Tyson’s schedule well enough that he can get his stuff out of there when Tyson’s not home. The furniture is all Tyson’s anyway; he’d gotten it when he moved in and Gabe hadn’t been attached to any of his stuff so he’d sold it. So it’s easy enough to remove himself from the apartment. 

Then—that’s it. He’s gone. He should maybe have taken a cue, he thinks, from how many of his classmates actually give him their sympathies about how he and his boyfriend broke up, no irony in it. 

It feels like a breakup. It feels worse than any break up Gabe’s ever had. It feels like something vital is missing, and Gabe wants to fix it by calling Tyson, but he can’t because he’s giving them distance. He knows from Nate that Tyson’s alive, because he gave in that much, but he won’t do more. 

He can’t stop thinking about it, though. Maybe he should have done the leaving better. He probably shouldn’t have kissed Tyson, he thinks, late at night lying in his bed. That was—not cool of him, probably. He doesn’t actually think Tyson’s into him, but even so. 

It’s not technically the first time Gabe’s kissed a guy. There were a few, in college, when he was figuring stuff out. It’s not even technically the first time Gabe’s kissed Tyson, because apparently spin the bottle had still been a thing in their high school. This kiss had sort of felt like one of those. Except then it had usually been both of them laughing into the kiss, their friends whooping at them to ‘get it’ in the background, and Tyson was smiling when it was done, and usually ended up leaning back on Gabe anyway. This one—obviously it was ten years later, but he’d been stiff, too. Surprised, but holding back. 

If he hadn’t been—Gabe had seen Tyson kiss and be kissed, over the years. He knows he’s good at it. He’s heard the reviews, both while it’s happening and after the fact. If Tyson had been into it, if he hadn’t been surprised, maybe, he’d have grabbed Gabe back. They wouldn’t have needed to talk, because they know each other too well, and they’d have figured this out too, and—

None of which matters. Because that wasn’t what happened. And also, Gabe wasn’t into that. 

* * *

He reminds himself of that, the next night, when he’s thinking about that again. He’s straight. He’s not into guys. It’s not some sort of defensive heterosexual panicking, either; he’d done his questioning and experimenting, but—he remembers being thirteen and Tyson throwing out, in between talking about video games and the hockey game tomorrow, that he was bi. Somewhere along the lines in the conversation, he’d asked how Tyson had known, and Tyson had shrugged. “I always knew, I guess,” he’d said. “It was just—there.” And it definitely hadn’t been for Gabe. So, like. He had been pretty sure. 

But he can’t stop thinking about Tyson’s lips on his. Just that brief moment. But it’s not like—he’s slept in the same bed as Tyson, they’ve done something that Gabe stopped pretending wasn’t cuddling; Gabe knows what it feels like, to have Tyson pressed against him, all warmth and laughter. There’s definitely laughter, when Tyson sleeps with people. Gabe’s heard that. Laughter, and these little sounds, that Gabe’s also heard, words that Gabe couldn’t quite make out and low pleased rumbles that Gabe definitely could. 

Maybe, Gabe has to think. Maybe it’s not normal, to have listened quite that closely to his best friend having sex. It’s almost definitely not normal, to think that much about kissing his best friend. 

* * *

Gabe does his homework. He looks at other guys, tries to think about it–twenty-five isn’t that old to be figuring out his sexuality, he thinks, though if it really is a thing Tyson’s definitely never going to let him hear the end of it. If Tyson ever talks to him again. And like, maybe there’s something. Maybe, if he looks at a hot guy, he feels something, but—but also he does, reluctantly, notice that it’s mainly there when the hot guy are stocky brunettes with curly hair and brown eyes and charmingly boyish smiles. Not that there are many of those around. Or none of the rest of them measure up to Tyson. 

He breaks up with his girlfriend, a few weeks PT—Post Tyson. He’s not really sure who does the dumping; it starts as a conversation about their relationship and then sort of devolves, and he thinks they’re both relieved when it’s done. “You’ve been miserable anyway,” she tells him, “And I’m not the one who can help. You need to talk to him, Gabe.” 

Which, like. Right. Gabe probably should. If only because it’s almost Christmas and they usually go home for that, and they need to figure out if they’re carpooling or what. But—if Gabe talks to Tyson, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to leave again, and he’s still not sure. Of anything. Not that it matters, because even if he was into Tyson, Tyson’s not into him. He made that very clear. 

Gabe could probably convince him, though, he can’t help but think, on another sleepless night, where he really needs to get to sleep because he’s doing his rotation in the ER and so sleep is a precious commodity. He knows how to make Tyson happy, and he may never have slept with a guy before but he thinks he could figure it out. He knows what he likes, and he can extrapolate from there. He thinks about it more, closes his eyes. Lets his hands wander, his imagination roam, and—yeah. He could figure it out. But if he’s wrong, and that hurts Tyson, he can’t…

Gabe honestly doesn’t know how long he’d be stuck in that circularity, but then the next day when he’s just getting off from his rounds, Tiffany, one of the other med students, taps him on the shoulder as she sits down next to him. “Hey, I thought you might want to know—your ex is here.” 

“No kidding, her shift is starting.” 

“Not her. Your ex-boyfriend.” Gabe’s hand clenches. “I just saw him in a room as I was leaving the ER, he’s—” 

“Where?” Gabe demands, and he doesn’t recognize his voice. 

“Room 145, but he was sitting up, I don’t think—” Gabe doesn’t hear the rest of her sentence, because he’s already gone. It’s a good thing he knows the hospital so well by now, because he wouldn’t make it to the room anyway, in the haze he’s in, but somehow—he gets there just as the doctor is letting himself out of the room. 

“Oh, Gabe,” the doctor says with a smile. “Do you need something?” 

“Yeah—I mean, no, just—he’s my friend, I think, in there, and—” Gabe swallows. “Is everything okay?” 

He gets the wry smile that he knows means HIPPA prevents her from saying anything. “I’ll ask if he minds if you go in,” she says though, and Gabe smiles his thanks as she sticks her head back in. She steps back out, a second later. “You’re okay,” she says, and then pats his arm. “He’ll be fine,” she says, comforting. The fact that she thinks he needs that comfort is less comforting, but Gabe feels like his heart’s beating out his skin every second he’s out here instead of with Tyson, so maybe he just looks that bad. Or maybe it is that bad in there, he doesn’t–

He thank the doctor, then goes in. 

Tyson’s sitting on the table, his leg out in front of him. His jeans have clearly been cut off right on the thigh of one of his legs, and all Gabe can see there is the blood staining what hasn’t been cut off. He hasn’t been nauseous around blood for years, but now he thinks he might faint.

“Should have known you’d show up,” Tyson says, wry, and Gabe—fuck. He glares. 

“What the hell happened?” he demands. He reaches for the chart, looks at Tyson, who shrugs and nods, then picks it up. he’s not like, great at reading charts yet, but he can see the number of stitches that just happened pretty easily. “Are you okay? What—” 

“There was a small wrestling incident,” Nate says, and Gabe notices him for the first time, sitting in a chair in the corner. His face is whiter than Tyson’s. Gabe can’t really bother looking at him for long, because he’s just looking at Tyson. 

“He suplexed me into a vase,” Tyson says, and he’s definitely on something because Gabe knows his high voice, but also because if he wasn’t he’d definitely have made more of a joke out of that. As it is, Gabe whirls to glare at Nate, who lifts up his hands. 

“I know! It’s not as bad as it sounds, it was just—I didn’t—he’s okay!” Nate yelps, backing off. “The doctor says he’s fine, he’ll be on crutches for a while but it’s fine, that’s—I’m going to get some coffee!” he finishes, and leaves the room, because he’s a coward. Gabe turns back to Tyson. 

“Don’t do that to me again,” he snaps. His heart’s still beating too fast, which is why, he thinks, he ends up in front of Tyson, kneeling like he’s looking at the stitches, when really it’s the most upright he can be. “Fuck, Tyson. Don’t scare me like that.” 

“I didn’t think they’d tell you,” Tyson says, easy. “I told them they didn’t need to tell my contact, or whatever.” 

“That was stupid,” Gabe tells him, as sternly as he can. “They should have called me, I was here already, I could have helped, I could have—” Done something. He’s not sure what. Maybe just held Tyson’s hand while he was getting stitches. 

“Wasn’t sure you’d come,” Tyson says, and it’s open and vulnerable in a way that tells Gabe he really is high. “Thought you might have to stay away, or whatever. Because of how we’re too close.” 

Gabe looks up. Tyson’s looking down at him, half-vacant but all hurt, and Gabe can’t look at him for long, but he has to to say this. “Don’t be an idiot,” he says, firmly. “Of course I’d be here.” 

“That’s usually my line,” Tyson murmurs, and Gabe laughs and drops his head against Tyson’s thigh. “You know, if I were less loopy I’d say you could stay right there and make it up to me.” 

Gabe snorts, despite himself. Despite thinking—well. Maybe some questions have been answered. “They gave you the good stuff, huh?” 

“I was freaking out a little,” Tyson admits, “Nate was freaking out a lot. He had to leave because the doctor thought he was going to throw up. I missed you,” he says, and Gabe clenches his eyes shut tighter. “You’d have been there.” 

“Yeah.” He will be there, Gabe promises himself. He’s not letting Tyson go through any of this alone. 

* * *

That’s why, he decides, he waits for the doctor to come back and give Tyson all the instructions about his meds and how long he needs the crutches for, and then for Tyson to demonstrate that he can use the crutches— “Don’t worry, I’m not a crutches virgin,” Tyson says, and gets a chuckle out of the doctor as Nate snorts and Gabe groans—then supervises the wheelchair to the car process. 

“You don’t have to,” Tyson tells him, as he and Nate together get Tyson into the passenger side of Nate’s car. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I left you two alone for a second and you ended up in the hospital,” Gabe snaps at him. “Forgive me if I don’t trust you about that.” 

“It was more than a second,” Tyson tells him, but he doesn’t protest anymore. Nate seems suitably cowed too, and so doesn’t comment when Gabe follows them back home. 

There’s—a lot of blood on the floor. Gabe had known, intellectually, how bad it had been, but seeing the blood feels like something different. Hits him different. He’s going to be a doctor, he should be able to handle a crisis, but he doesn’t look at the blood. 

“Okay,” he says, when they’re inside. “I’m going to get Tyson to bed, because he’s about to fall over. You,” he tells Nate, “Are going to clean this up.” 

“But—” Gabe gives him a look that he hopes communicates ‘did you or did you not just send Tyson to the hospital?’ Nate doesn’t protest again. 

Gabe slings and arm around Tyson’s waist, and helps him to his bed, then sits him down on it. 

“You know,” Tyson mumbles, as Gabe takes his shirt off for him, “These are kinda mixed messages.” 

“Hm?” Gabe’s very much not thinking about he’s currently helping Tyson with the pants, easing them carefully over his injured leg

“You say you don’t want to date me, but here you are, getting me out of my clothes,” Tyson slurs a little, but he’s still smiling like he’s made a great joke. God, Gabe loves him. There’s no uncertainty there. Like there hadn’t been, when he’d seen Tyson in the exam room, and his heart had stopped for a second. 

“You know me, I’m kind of an idiot sometimes,” Gabe tells him, and gets back to his feet. Tyson flops down onto the bed, kicks his leg up with it. “Now get some sleep.” 

“Are you gonna be here when I wake up?” Tyson asks, as innocent as Tyson can ever be. The covers are pulled up to his chin and he looks a mess. Gabe—yeah, he definitely wants to kiss him. 

"I’ll be here as long as you let me,” he says, and Tyson smiles as he goes back to sleep. 

Gabe crashes on the couch, because Nate had moved into his room. There’s some awkward maneuvering where Nate, who still clearly feels pretty guilty, offers Gabe his bed, but that feels weird so Gabe says no, but Nate’s also very Canadian and can’t let anyone sleep on the couch, and Gabe kind of thinks that neither of them entirely trust the other if Tyson needs something in the middle of the night, and it threatens to end with no one sleeping at all before Gabe sits down on the couch and refuses to leave. 

He barely sleeps anyway. He can’t stop thinking about Tyson, sitting in that exam room—about the jokes Gabe had never thought about before. About the sheer relief he’d felt when he’d seen Tyson, not just that he was okay but also just—to see Tyson. How much his instinct, when Tyson had started talking shit, had been to see if a kiss could shut him up. 

* * *

It means he’s up early, and then he goes to the kitchen, starts to cook. He’s not a great cook—there’s a reason Tyson was designated chef—but he can manage breakfast. It’s about ready when he hears movement in Tyson’s room, and he’s just putting the eggs onto a plate when Tyson comes out in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, stumbling a little with his crutches. He looks tired and still flushed from sleep and Gabe’s— he’s sure. 

Gabe immediately abandons the eggs to go hover next to Tyson as Tyson takes a seat at the table, though Tyson glares at him before he actually helps him. “Wow, breakfast. Should have gotten injured more, if it gets me—” 

“No you shouldn’t have,” Gabe cuts that off, fast. “What the hell, Tyson? How did you manage to get that hurt wrestling with Nate?” 

Tyson shrugs. “Skill?” 

Gabe lets out a noise that definitely doesn’t have words to it. Tyson grins a little, then more when Gabe puts the plate in front of him. Then he glances up at Gabe, and the smile fades. “So. You are here. I kinda thought that was a drug-induced hallucination.” 

“You weren’t on that good of drugs,” Gabe retorts, but he grabs his own plate and sits down across from Tyson. Then he gets up, shoves the third chair under Tyson’s leg so that it’s properly extended, and then sits down again. Tyson lets him fuss, his eyebrows raised. 

“So is this a—are you doing this while I’m hurt, then you’re going to fuck off again?” Tyson asks, and he’s trying to sound casual, but Gabe knows him too well for that. “Is this too _close_?” 

“No.” Gabe looks down at his eggs. “I mean, no, I’m not going to leave. Unless you want me to.” 

“I should make you,” Tyson informs him, and Gabe shrugs, because yeah, maybe. “But you’re lucky, and I am very forgiving, and also probably still a little drugged up. And also I want to have something to hold over you for the rest of forever.” 

Gabe smiles a little, at the sound of Tyson talking about forever. “Yeah, you laugh now,” Tyson goes on. “Wait ‘til I’m making you like, go get me ice packs in the middle of the night.” 

“I’ll take the risk.” Gabe looks up again, at Tyson. “I want to.” 

“Not too boyfriendly?” Tyson asks, still teasing. He takes a bite of the toast. 

Gabe shrugs. But it’s Tyson, is the thing. Tyson makes things that should be scary easier. “It kind of is,” he says, even. “But what if that’s what I want?” 

Tyson blinks once. Twice. Then he puts down the toast. “Gabe?” 

“You said, why don’t I date you,” Gabe explains. He’s trying to be calm, but he thinks the words are starting to come faster and faster. “So—why don’t I?” 

“You demonstrated why not. Pretty unarguably.” Tyson’s a little red, though, so he’s not as calm as his tone might make him seem. 

“Yeah, but that was—we were mad and I was proving a point, it wasn’t—if you don’t want to, it’s fine, we’ll go back to being friends and I’ll try to be less intense about it, but I think we could be good together.” Gabe should have used his sleepless night to come up with a speech, but apparently this is what he has. “We are good together, in most of it, and I think we could be good together with all of it, and you should give me the chance to convince you.” 

Tyson’s still staring. “Gabe, you’re straight,” he says, which Gabe notes isn’t a no. “You don’t need to like, pity fuck me just so we can still be friends. That’s kind of shitty, actually, don’t—what are you doing?” 

Gabe’s stood up, moved across the table so he can lean over Tyson, an arm braced on the table. Tyson’s staring up at him, with those big, expressive brown eyes and lips that Gabe wants to try out. He wants to see what made everyone else talk so highly about him. 

“Disproving myself,” he tells Tyson, and looks very obviously at Tyson’s lips. “Is that okay?” 

“Um. Yeah? I mean, if this is some sort of gay chicken I don’t know who you’re playing with because like, I am gay, and I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but—” Gabe cuts him off by kissing him. 

It almost doesn’t work, because Tyson’s lips keep forming words for another second before he seems to process that Gabe actually did it. Gabe waits for him to come to that realization, then he actually kisses Tyson. Not the angry, dismissive kiss of a few weeks ago, but a kiss like he’d kiss someone he’s into. 

It’s easy to kiss Tyson like that, he finds. Different, sure, because it’s a guy and Gabe hasn’t really done this with a guy before, but the scrape of his stubble is intriguing, how large and solid he is under Gabe, how there’s no moment Gabe can forget it’s Tyson, because Tyson kisses like he does everything else—intent and playful and secretly really well, and his hands lift up to Gabe’s shoulders, his hair, and they’re large and calloused and Gabe thinks with a shiver about them touching him more. 

They break apart at last, but Gabe doesn’t go far. Tyson’s staring at him, wide-eyed, his mouth gaping open a little like an invitation to kiss him again. “Um.” 

“Is this a way to actually get you quiet?” Gabe teases. Tyson makes a face. 

“Okay, so. You’re straight?” He says, and this time it’s a question. 

“Um. Might be more…up in the air than I thought?” It’s easy to say to Tyson, somehow. “At least regarding you.” He pauses, then, “You want to kiss me? I thought you weren’t into me.” 

“I’m mean, I never_ thought about it _thought about it, but.” Tyson waves at him. “I have eyes_. _And like, I love you. So. That seems like a decent place to start. If you—really? You seriously don’t need to do this just because you think it’s what I want, I’m not—” 

“Do you want me to prove to you again that it’s not just for you?” Gabe asks, and Tyson grins, that same glint in his eyes he’d had twenty years ago in his smile. 

“I guess I could handle it,” he says, so Gabe does. 

* * *

Nate comes in, some time later. He looks at them, then he shakes his head, and walks back out. Tyson’s head falls onto Gabe’s shoulder, the laughter muffled in his shirt. “Aw, poor Mac,” he giggles. “I think we traumatized him.” 

“He can handle it,” Gabe decides. “But also, this is killing my back, and you actually should eat if you want to take more pain meds.” 

“Fine, Doctor,” Tyson drawls, then stops. Tilts his head. “Huh…” he says, drawing out that word. 

Gabe knows he flushes. “What?” 

“Doctor.” Tyson feels the word in his mouth. He somehow manages to make it a little obscene. 

“Tyson,” Gabe hisses, and Tyson grins. 

“Hey, you knew what you were getting into,” he points out. Then goes red and laughs again. It takes Gabe a second, then he rolls his eyes. 

“Tyson,” he groans, and Tyson laughs and shrugs. 

Gabe waits until they’ve rearranged so Gabe’s put warm toast on Tyson’s plate and then bullied him into the living room so he can sit next to Gabe and put his foot up. It’s not anything they haven’t done before, Tyson tucked in next to Gabe, but it feels like more. In a way Gabe likes. 

“You know I haven’t—like, done this before,” he admits. He hates admitting he doesn’t know shit, but it’s Tyson. Tyson knows that. “With a guy.” 

“Yeah, well.” Tyson shrugs. “I haven’t done this before either. Seriously, I mean, obviously I’ve fucked.” Gabe rolls his eyes. There’s no moment Tyson can’t ruin. “We’ll figure it out. We’re good at that.” 

“Yeah.” Gabe runs his hand down Tyson’s back. Tyson shivers, and Gabe makes a note of that idly. They are. 

* * *

Of course, later, “Wait, I was totally your bi awakening!” Tyson crows, just when Gabe was really settling into his nap. 

“No you weren’t.” 

“I was! You were sure you were straight then you had one shitty kiss with me and it changed everything!” Tyson looks like Christmas has come early, and possibly his birthday. “Oh my god. This is amazing.” 

“Nothing is amazing. It was different, with you.” 

“Yeah, you’re very sweet.” Tyson runs a hand over Gabe’s hair, casually affectionate. “But like, this is going on my resume. I might hire a skywriter. Turns straight guys bi with a single kiss!” He actually chortles, which is not a sound Gabe knew people actually made. 

“I’m leaving you,” he grumbles, turning over in bed. 

Tyson tries to roll over, can’t because of his leg, and instead scoots over until he’s next to Gabe and can throw an arm over him. “No you aren’t,” he tells Gabe, sounding very smug about it. “You love me.” 

“Not when you’re being annoying.” 

“Even then,” Tyson informs him, and Gabe sighs, because he knows that, like he knows that when they’re done napping he’s going to make sure Tyson stays sitting while he or Nate makes food instead of trying to take over. And that Tyson will probably convince him that he’s okay to go out tonight to hang out with his friends, but he’ll go home with Gabe anyway, and that—they’ll take care of each other. Like always. 

“Nope,” Gabe insists. “Not at all.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, Landeskog,” Tyson retorts, squirming to get more comfortable. He waits a beat, when Gabe thinks they’ll finally get some sleep, then he adds, “You love me enough that I turned you bi.” 

“That’s not what happened!” Gabe repeats, and rolls over to kiss the laughter off of Tyson’s face. 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Want to talk about it? Comment or come chat on tumblr at [ fanforthefics!](http://fanforthefics.tumblr.com/)


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